A Thin Line
by TessaStarDean
Summary: Snickers. A case makes Sara really think about her friendship with Nick and the feelings she has for him.


When Sara pulled up to the crime scene, she noticed what a nice neighborhood it was in. It wasn't rich, full of houses bigger than anyone really needed, but it was clean, with nice homes that made her think of the American dream of 2.5 kids and a white picket fence. Shaking her head, she got out of the SUV and headed inside.

She moved through the house, walking down the hall and making her way to the actual scene. When she stepped down into the living room, she found two bodies sprawled out on the floor, one with a gun in his right hand.

"Ms. Sidle," a familiar voice greeted.

She couldn't help the smile that bloomed on her face. "Nicky," she responded. "What have we got here?"

He pointed at the bodies. "Looks like a murder-suicide so far. Glen Mitchell here is holding the gun that seems to have killed Julia Carmichael."

"So they're not married?"

Nick smirked at her. "Not to each other. They both have wedding rings on, though."

"Hmm. Well that makes things more interesting, doesn't it? What do you think, they were having an affair?"

"Could be. Won't know until we dig into their lives a little."

"When was the last time we had a simple, obvious homicide?"

Nick looked at her, an amused smile on his face. "You havin' delusions again, Sunshine? If there are people involved, it's _never_ simple."

"Stokes?"

They both turned to see a younger cop standing behind them nervously.

"Yeah?"

"The wife is here."

"Thanks." He turned back to Sara. "You ready to talk to her?"

"Let's go."

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"Mrs. Mitchell?"

The woman looked up from the officer she was yelling at, her eyes locking with Nick's. She was pretty, her blonde hair twisted and held up in a clip. But there was fear in her blue eyes, and Nick could tell that she was starting to piece things together.

"Where is my husband?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. But your husband was found dead this morning in the living room."

She stared at them in shock for a long minute before the tears built up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Stretching out a hand, she felt for the kitchen chair behind her and sank into it, her bottom lip trembling.

Sara watched her closely. If the victims were, in fact, having an affair, then the murder-suicide might not be all that it seemed. But as she watched the grieving widow, she found herself believing that the woman had nothing to do with her husband's death.

"How?" she asked, her voice subdued.

Sara picked up the explanation. "It looks like a suicide." She paused, shifting nervously. "Mrs. Mitchell…"

"Stacey, please."

"Stacey. Your husband wasn't alone."

The woman looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

"It looks as though he shot another woman before taking his own life."

"That's impossible," Stacey whispered. "Why would Greg…" She looked around helplessly before focusing on Nick and Sara again. "Who? The woman, I mean...do you know who she was?"

Nick nodded. "Her name was Julia Carmichael."

Recognition flooded the woman's expression immediately, and she gasped loudly. "Oh my God."

"Do you know her?" Nick asked.

"She's…I have to call Mark."

"Mark…?"

"Her husband. My husband and I are…are friends are with them. I have to call him."

"We can make that call," Nick offered.

Stacey held up a hand. "Please, let me do it. He's been my best friend for ten years. It should come from me."

Pushing herself up, she walked on shaking legs over to the phone, slowly taking down the receiver and dialing a number.

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"Can I get you anything?" Sara asked as she and Stacey took a seat in the interrogation room.

"No, thank you."

"Okay. I just have some questions I need to ask you. It's standard procedure."

"That just doesn't seem right."

"Excuse me?"

Stacey took a deep breath and looked Sara straight in the eye. "The fact that there's a standard procedure for something like this. It just means that it happens so often that somebody went and organized what happens afterward. That isn't right."

"I'm sorry."

The widow shook her head. "It doesn't matter now, I guess. Go ahead and ask your questions."

Sara gave the woman a tight smile. She hated being in these situations, but she really had no choice.

"Do you know why Julia would be visiting your husband?"

Stacey shrugged. "Like I told you, we were all friends. She could have been over for lunch, or to borrow something…I really don't know."

"You said that you and her husband are best friends…did your husband and Julia know each other before your marriage?"

"No. They met through Mark and I."

"Did either of them have any enemies that you know of?"

"No."

"Do you know if either of them were having any problems?"

"I know that Greg didn't…things were going well at work, and at home everything was normal. Julia…"

"She was having problems?"

"Well…I don't know that they matter anymore."

"Every little thing helps, even if it just helps us to rule something out."

"She and Mark…they had been fighting a lot lately."

"What about?" Sara asked.

Stacey shrugged. "Mark thought Julia might be having an affair. I told him that was ridiculous…"

Sara nodded, looking down at the file in front of her and pretending to read something as she asked her next question. "Is there any chance that Julia and Greg were seeing each other?"

Stacey's head shot up, her eyes locking with Sara. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry. I have to ask."

"My husband was not having an affair," the other woman said firmly.

"Okay."

"Julia wasn't having an affair either. Mark was just being irrational."

"Do you know why?"

"Who knows? Once men get an idea into their head, they have a hard time letting it go."

"Just one more question, Stacey. I have to ask – where were you this afternoon around two?"

"Having a late lunch with Mark."

"So you had just left him when you got back to the house?"

"Yes."

"Alright," Sara said, standing up. "Thank you, Stacey. We'll call you when we know something or if we have anymore questions."

The other woman nodded dully, standing up and moving toward the door. Sara watched her go with a frown, something tugging at her memory. Finally, shaking her head, she left the interrogation room and headed for the lab.

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Nick handed the man a Styrofoam cup of coffee before taking the seat across from him. "Anything else I can get you?" he asked.

Mark Carmichael shook his head. "No, thanks, man."

"I need to ask you a few questions."

"Yeah, I know the drill." Nick's eyebrows shot up at that and Mark chuckled dully. "I've watched enough Law & Order to know that the husband is the first suspect."

"Maybe I'll just get the question out of the way, then," Nick said, hoping the man's humor would hold. "Did you kill Julia?"

Mark shook his head. "No."

"Where were you when it happened?"

"Having lunch with Stacey."

"Two o'clock is a little late for lunch."

The other man shrugged. "She was out shopping all morning, and called me a little after one. I realized that I hadn't eat yet either, so we met up."

"How long have you two been friends?" Nick asked, making notes on a pad in front of him.

"Ten years. Since college."

"That's a long time."

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"So how well did your wife and Greg know each other?"

"Well enough. We all had dinner together a couple nights a week."

"Do you know why she was at his house?"

"No. Maybe they were having lunch, or…I don't know. We were friends – did she need a reason?"

Nick raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, man, I'm just asking the questions they tell me to."

"Right, sorry."

"Did your wife have any enemies?"

Mark shook his head. "Julia was the sweetest woman in the world. Everyone loved her."

"What about Greg?"

"I know he was having some trouble at work."

"Oh?"

"Yeah…Stacey mentioned it. She didn't go into detail though. I got the impression there was a woman involved."

"What about Julia and Greg?"

Mark frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Is there any chance that they…" Nick left it hanging.

The other man's eyes hardened and his jaw set. "Julia wasn't cheating on me."

"Okay. I had to ask."

"Are we done here?"

Nick looked down at his notes and nodded. "Yeah, for now. We'll call you if we need anything else."

Mark murmured his goodbye and stood up, moving quickly toward the door. Nick watched him go, chewing on the end of his pen in thought.

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Sara and Nick met up in the hallway after the interrogations. Falling into step, they walked toward the M.E.'s office together.

"So…did you learn anything fun?" Nick asked.

"Well, Mrs. Mitchell pointed the finger very subtly at Mark Carmichael."

"Really?"

Sara nodded. "Apparently Mark thought his wife was having an affair."

Nick frowned. "He was very adamant about his wife being faithful when I talked to him. In fact, he suggested that Greg Mitchell was cheating on _his_ wife."

Sara pursed her lips. "You know, for best friends, they're certainly pointing fingers at each other."

As Nick pushed the door open to the morgue, he shook his head. "As far as we know, Sar, Greg Mitchell killed Julia Carmichael and then turned the gun on himself. Our most likely murderer killed himself afterward."

"There was no suicide," Robbins stated as soon as Nick was finished speaking.

Giving the other C.S.I. a triumphant smile, Sara walked over to the autopsy table. "Please explain."

"Well, it's been awhile since I've been to med school," the older man told her, "but I'm pretty sure that if you shoot somebody, you get some GSR on your hands."

"And there's none on Greg Mitchell?" Nick asked.

Robbins shook his head. "Not a trace on his hands or clothes."

"Which means the shot came from farther away. So somebody killed them and then framed Greg."

Sara shook her head, frowning in thought. "But…if someone is going to go to the trouble of staging a suicide, there are certain things they get right. Like the GSR. Anybody who watches primetime television would know that."

"What are you saying?" Nick asked.

"I'm saying that…" She sighed. "I don't know what I'm saying. But this doesn't add up."

Nick shrugged and then smiled at her. "Guess it's time to start digging."

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The next day, Grissom found Sara sitting in the break room, a bunch of files open in front of her and spread across the table. Taking one of the chairs, he sat down next to her, watching her with an amused smile on his face.

"How's the case coming?" he finally asked.

She jumped a little at his words, suddenly realizing that she was no longer alone in the room. Returning his smile, she gestured at the folders.

"Do you know that in the past six years, Greg Mitchell has had five jobs?"

"That's unusual. Did he leave of his own volition or was he fired?"

Sara shook her head. "He was never fired. But there was always a storm of gossip and scandal that surrounded his leaving."

Grissom leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on his stomach. "Like what?"

She shrugged. "Everything. Allegations of affairs with his coworkers, vandalized property, stolen computers, allegations of embezzlement…"

"Any charges brought against him?"

"No…whenever they were investigated by the company, they were found to be ludicrous and sorely misplaced. But Mitchell would end up leaving and finding another job."

"Did you ask his wife about it?"

"Not yet. But the really weird thing is…Julia Carmichael was having the same problems."

Grissom sat up, his eyes narrowing. "What else did these two have in common?"

"Honestly? Not much. Their problems at work and their spouses were really the only two things. Which would suggest that the only reason they would be meeting…"

"…would be to discuss one of those two things," Grissom finished.

"Well, Sunshine, guess what I found –"

Nick stopped abruptly when he saw that Grissom was in the break room with Sara. Ever since he had found out about their relationship, Sara noticed that he was more cautious around the both of them. Even now, as he took in the innocent scene before him, the fire in his eyes faded, and she could tell that the smile on his face went from genuine to forced.

"You found something, Nick?" Grissom asked, not noticing anything amiss.

"Yeah," the younger man replied, the excitement gone from his voice. "It turns out there's a little more to the widow and widower than we originally thought.

Grissom gestured to another chair. "Let's hear it."

Nick took the seat across from Grissom, and next to Sara. Focusing his eyes on the file he had brought in with him, he began to explain.

"I talked to some people who knew them in college. It seems that Mark and Stacey weren't just best friends – they were head over heels in love with each other."

"So they dated?" Gil asked.

Nick shook his head. "No. In fact, they saw other people all through college."

Sara frowned. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would you date someone when you so obviously have feelings for someone else?"

Glancing at her for a moment longer than necessary, Nick shrugged. "People do it all the time." When she blushed and dropped her eyes, he continued. "Anyway, these relationships that they had didn't just fizzle…they were destroyed."

"What do you mean?" Sara asked.

"I talked to Mark's roommate from his junior year. Apparently Stacey and Mark did whatever they could to ruin the other's relationship."

Grissom nodded in understanding. "They wouldn't admit their feelings to each other, but they couldn't stand to see the other with anyone else."

"That's twisted," Sara observed, making a face.

"It begs the question though…" Grissom continued. "How did they end up married to other people?"

"Julia and Greg must have been thicker-skinned than most," Nick answered.

"Maybe it was getting to be too much," Sara suggested. "Maybe that's why they were meeting. Each couple had been married for six years, and that's how long they were having troubles at work."

Grissom's eyes slid to Sara. "You think Mark and Stacey were causing those problems?"

She shrugged. "It wouldn't take much – a couple well-placed rumors and insinuations…"

"And it would be keeping with their past," Nick added, agreeing with his friend.

"That still leaves the question of who killed them," Gil pointed out.

"Not really," Sara disagreed. "I mean, if they would go so far as to ruin people relationships and jobs, I don't think it's a big jump to murder."

The older man looked at her for a moment. "We don't have enough to arrest them."

"We don't have to," Nick said. "We can just tell them we have some more questions. Until they ask for a lawyer, they're fair game."

"You both agree with this?" Grissom asked. When they nodded, he sighed. "Alright. Bring them in."

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"They're on their way in," Sara told Nick as she walked into the lab. "Do you want to talk to them separate or together?"

"Definitely together," he replied. "I want to see how they interact."

"I can't believe how twisted this all is. I mean…to purposefully ruin someone else's relationships…"

Nick shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "There's a thin line between love and hate."

Sara heard something else – something deeper – in his voice, but she couldn't bring herself to confront it. Instead, she nodded at the table. "What's all this?"

"Evidence from the scene."

"Right, I can see that. But what are you doing with it?"

He looked up then, an amused smile on his face. "I think I may have figured this out."

"You found something?" Sara asked, moving closer.

"Nothing new," he admitted. "But I did start to look at what we had in a different way."

"And?" she prodded.

"Patience, Sunshine," he answered, his smile broadening. "Patience."

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"You know, you two are pretty screwed up," Nick commented as he and Sara walked into the interrogation room.

"Excuse me?" Mark asked, his voice rising in irritation.

Sitting down, Nick shrugged. "Well, it's just that…you two will do whatever is necessary to make the other miserable. Now tell me, Mark, is that so eventually Stacey will have no choice but to realize she should be with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the other man growled.

Catching on, Sara nodded. "We dug into your pasts. You two have quite the history. I'm actually surprised either of you ever got married."

"I loved Greg," Stacey whispered, her voice thick.

"See, I don't think you did," Sara argued.

"What?"

"Well, we've dealt with a lot of grieving widows and widowers. And one thing that they almost all have in common is that they have a problem with tenses." When the pair just stared at her in confusion, Sara continued. "A lot of people have trouble accepting that someone they care about is suddenly gone. They'll use the present tense when talking about them, and then stumble, realizing that they'll have to start using the past tense. But you two…you both fell into the past tense immediately."

"What does that mean?" Mark demanded. "That doesn't tell you anything."

"No," Nick cut in. "But the evidence does."

Stacey's eyes turned wary. "What evidence?"

"Your fingerprints, Mrs. Mitchell, on your husband's body."

Stacey laughed. "He's my husband. I would hope my fingerprints would be on his body."

"But see, Mrs. Mitchell…we've already proven that this wasn't a murder-suicide. And your prints are the only other ones available to us. Which means…it had to be you."

Mark turned to stare at his friend, his eyes widening in horror. "You? You killed Julie?"

Stacey looked as though she had been slapped. She returned Mark's stare with one of her own, conflicting emotions waging war in her eyes. Finally, her gaze hardened and she turned back to Sara and Nick.

"I killed Greg." She paused, glancing at Mark. "But I didn't kill Julia."

"What do you mean?" Sara asked.

"She was already dead when I got home. Greg arrived a few minutes after me. I killed him and then staged the scene."

"But what about your alibi? You told us you were having lunch with Mark."

"We were –" Mark tried to interject.

Stacey cut him off. "I texted him when you left my house. I warned him that it would be in his best interest to back up my lie."

"And why is that, Mrs. Mitchell?" Nick asked.

She shrugged. "Because I knew immediately that he had killed Julia."

"You bitch!" Mark snarled, suddenly lunging at her. "How could you do this to me?"

Nick and the officer in the room got between the two friends, keeping Mark from throttling Stacey.

"I knew," she told them. "I knew it as soon as I walked in the door what he was trying to do. As though destroying Greg's career weren't enough…he was going to blame me for his wife's murder."

"But why did you kill your husband?" Sara asked.

Stacey's eyes were cold as she responded. "I figured I'd give him a taste of his own medicine, point the finger at him for both murders." She looked at Mark. "And now we're both going to jail."

"And you're okay with that?" Sara asked incredulously.

Stacey shrugged as the officer cuffed her. "At least I know he won't be happy without me."

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"That was some fucked up case," Nick commented when he and Sara were in the locker room at the end of shift. "If I hadn't heard it with my own ears, I might not have believed it."

"Do you really think they loved each other?" Sara asked.

He thought for a minute. "Yeah."

"But then…how could they do those things to each other? If you love someone, you do everything you can not to hurt them."

Nick shrugged. "They lost sight of it, I guess. Maybe they were so consumed with their own pain, that they could only think of sharing it. And the only person to share that kind of pain with is someone who knows you better than you know yourself." Glancing over at her, he saw how troubled she was by the whole thing. "Hey," he said softly. "You wanna get something to eat?"

Sara shook her head, closing her locker. "No thanks, Nicky. I just…I think I need to be by myself right now."

"Yeah," he whispered.

But she was already gone.

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Nick frowned when someone knocked on his door. He had been on his way to bed, his mind completely exhausted from the case. But he hadn't been able to unwind after work, and he had stayed up later than he should have. Sighing, he went to open the door.

"Sara?"

"Hi," she said, shuffling her feet.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just…" She trailed off, closing her eyes. "No, Nick. Everything's not okay."

He moved to the side, letting her in and leading her over to the couch. "Talk to me, Sar. What's the matter?"

She shook her head. "That case…"

"It was screwed up, Sara –"

"I broke up with Gil."

They both stopped at her admission, shocked. Unable to take the silence, Nick asked the only thing he could think of.

"Why?"

"I kept watching those two…and thinking about the fact that at one point, they were probably the best of friends. They probably hung out all the time, had inside jokes…but they could never bring themselves to admit how they felt."

"Okay…"

"And that's where everything went wrong. They ignored those feelings and then the feelings warped into this sick and twisted perversion of what they actually felt. I…I don't want that to happen to us, Nicky."

He sat there, stunned by her words. "What are you saying?" he whispered.

"I'm saying…" She took a deep breath. "I'm saying that I don't want us to hate each other. I know how I feel about you, and I'm pretty sure that I know how you feel about me. And…I see what it's doing to us, to our friendship. Because we never talked about it, and then I started seeing Gil…I'm losing you, Nick. And I'd rather tell you how I feel than have our friendship die because we're too scared to admit that we…that we…"

He reached out with a shaky hand, tucking her hair behind her ear. "That we love each other." She nodded, tears in her eyes. "Oh, Sar," he murmured. "I could never hate you. I could never get to the point where I wanted to hurt you. But…I don't know how much longer I could have stayed friends with you. It hurt too much."

She grabbed his face with her hands and pulled him down, her lips mere centimeters from his. "I'm so sorry," she breathed.

Then she was kissing him, letting all the confusion and pain drain out of her. Nick responded immediately, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Sighing against him, Sara felt like she had finally come home.


End file.
